


Re-Reflect

by stephanericher



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Other, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-27 20:49:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8416294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephanericher/pseuds/stephanericher
Summary: The truth is, Tatsuya would be fine with dressing up and staying in because the only people he really cares about impressing with this are Alex and Taiga, and it would be so much better if they could all be like this, joined arm-to-arm-to-arm or more all night.





	

“Excited?” says Tatsuya, pulling the knot on his tie tighter.

“Oh, yeah,” says Taiga. “Very.”

He stares at both of them in the mirror; Tatsuya meets his reflection’s gaze. They’re turned toward each other; half an inch and their shoulders would be pressed together and the fabric of their jackets would wrinkle. Less than that and their fingers would touch; Tatsuya considers that for a second, until he’s distracted by a more pressing matter.

He sees Alex approaching in the back of the reflection before he hears her feet, bare and light against the unfinished floorboards. She’s zipped into her dress already; her worn pumps that don’t quite match the dress (but no one’s going to notice anyway because her legs go longer than an airplane runway in them, especially with a dress that short) dangling from one hand. Her hair’s down, half-floating down her arms but some of it’s clinging in weird formations with static but the look lands somewhere on the near side of ridiculous.

“Can you…?” she says, extending a barrette to Taiga.

“Sure,” he says, taking it and waiting as she turns around.

He sweeps her hair with one hand into the other; it’s so thick and long but all of it fits so easily in his palm. He clears it away from her back, off her shoulders, sweeping aside stray strands from the front (which Tatsuya only catches from the mirror. Alex takes her glasses off, closes her eyes (maybe so she doesn’t have to deal with the world incomprehensible around her; maybe to enjoy the feeling of Taiga’s fingers against her scalp) and Taiga lifts the hair off the back of her neck. The jagged edge of her hairline is visible now; a few pieces of hair too short to be gathered up high break free from Taiga’s grip; he loosens it and lets the hair relax around her head, and then twists the rope of hair in his hand into a bun, fastening it with the barrette. He releases his grip, waiting for the hair to fall. It doesn’t.

“Good?” says Alex.

“Take a look,” says Taiga.

She replaces her glasses, adjusting them against her nose for a few seconds before appearing satisfied. She catches Tatsuya’s eye in the mirror and grins at him and, God. Like this he doesn’t know where to look, at the twisting strands of her hair or her eyes magnified behind the glass or her red-stained lips or the free expanse of her neck and broad shoulders, as if she’d picked this dress so someone could sculpt a bust out of her.

“By the way, Tatsuya, happy birthday.”

At this, Taiga bites back a laugh, but then reaches for his hand (and Tatsuya doesn’t have to look in the mirror to know he’s reaching for Alex on the other side).

“Can we just stay home?” Taiga says.

“Your teammates would never forgive you,” says Tatsuya. “And I want to go.”

“It’ll only be an hour or so,” says Alex.

And the truth is, Tatsuya would be fine with dressing up and staying in because the only people he really cares about impressing with this are Alex and Taiga, and it would be so much better if they could all be like this, joined arm-to-arm-to-arm or more all night. But going to Taiga’s teammates’ season kick-off party with all three of them crammed into the back of a cab and eating extravagant finger food and drinking expensive wine has its own appeal, and as compulsory events go this is probably the best kind (especially on his birthday).

“Well,” says Tatsuya. “Shall we, then?”

He squeezes Taiga’s hand. Taiga squeezes back; his palm is so very rough and warm.

*

The three of them barely fit in the back of the cab on the way over, one of those new compact sedan deals that leaves Tatsuya half-longing for the heyday of town cars and crown vics because his knees are creaking in the middle seat, but there’s more room to be squished into a compromising position with Taiga on his right and Alex to his left, arms to oh-so-accidentally be thrown around shoulders and bumping knees and feet, thighs pressed against each other on the cheap seat material, Taiga’s head under Tatsuya’s jaw and Alex’s lips right next to his ear. She kisses Tatsuya on the neck as Taiga pays the driver; he can feel her lipstick stuck against his skin and when he glances in the rearview mirror he can see a crimson smudge to one side.

He excuses himself to the restroom almost as soon as they get in, with the excuse of washing his neck but then Taiga follows and they have a few moments to themselves off in the hall, Taiga ducking his head and pressing their bodies together, kissing the breath just about all the way out of Tatsuya’s lungs and he’s still halfway dizzy by the time he’s staring in the mirror with a wet paper towel in his hand, trying to remember his objective. The smudge is a little streaky, either from when he’d rubbed it unconsciously or something else, and it’s not hard to scrub it off.

Alex and Taiga are standing with Taiga’s captain and his brother when Tatsuya reaches them; Alex half-pivots and she’s got an extra glass of wine for him. It’s some kind of white and apparently the captain’s brother’s got some kind of connection through work to the vineyard; it’s not half-bad.

“By the way, Tatsuya,” says Taiga’s captain. “You know anything about that lipstick on Taiga’s collar?”

Taiga flushes bright red, and yeah, there’s definitely a stain around the edge of his shirt’s white collar and Tatsuya thinks briefly about the streaking on his neck and that could easily be it (or he could have stolen a quick kiss with Alex at some point, or it could have been both).

“My, my,” says Tatsuya. “Can’t say I do.”

“I told you; it’s from when I spilled that Powerade.”

“Sure,” says Taiga’s captain. “Looks a hell of a lot like Powerade to me. You can tell us who the lucky lady is.”

Tatsuya leans against Alex; his free hand finds the crook of her waist. It would be easy, stupid, filled with too many ramifications, to say it right here and now, even if no one would take it seriously, that they’re both so damn lucky to have Taiga. The conversation turns to fantasy football and local politics, and Tatsuya nudges Taiga’s ankle with his heel. Taiga turns, and he already knows what Tatsuya would say if he could say it; the smile he gives is softer than a fresh hotel bed and Tatsuya sinks right in.

When they leave it’s still mid-afternoon; the sun doesn’t look like it’s really sinking in the sky, and the streets are relatively quiet. Tatsuya’s only had a glass and a half but he feels almost buzzed, like he’s teetering on the edge of sleepy belligerence but far enough away to see it coming before he lets it take him over. And a lot of it is Alex’s hand in his, the firm hold of her long fingers, the way he’s at eye level with her neck when she’s wearing these heels and he can see the whole thing, long and bare and elegant, telling him almost straight-up to sink his teeth in so he can hear that sound she makes. A whole lot more has been Taiga, hands animated, sneaking aside glances at them, brushing his pinky against Tatsuya’s with zero subtlety about it, his breath hot against Tatsuya’s ear when he asks if he can get him anything and the way he nearly flushes over when Tatsuya looks back and lets his gaze flicker up and down Taiga in that custom-fit suit.

Alex sits on his lap in the cab back and he wants to put his hands up her dress but he’s not sure how much the cab driver can see and he doesn’t really want to get kicked out so he settles for keeping one hand on her knee and the other on the side of her ass, pretending like he’s got to adjust his grip every now and then as much for his own benefit as for Alex’s or Taiga’s.

Taiga insists on paying the driver and they’re halfway to the door and Tatsuya finds himself wishing it was a little later even though Taiga’s got a game tomorrow night and he and Alex have to get up at the usual time anyway, but he’d also like to be able to have Alex feel him up a little more before they get to the front door. She’s laughing at his eagerness but not calling him out on it, probably because she’s laughing right into the side of his neck and kissing off the rest of her lipstick.

They kick off their shoes and don’t make it past the living room at all, Alex’s mouth on his and the taste of wine and expensive fried food still on her tongue and his fingers finally up her skirt and at the top of her thighs, all cool and smooth and firm like stainless steel pipes under his touch. She’s fumbling with the buttons on his shirt and he almost tells her not to bother and he’d yank it off but that would mean letting go and he really doesn’t want to do that. The lock clicks behind them and almost while it’s still sounding Taiga’s there, too. His fingers reach between the buttons of Tatsuya’s shirt and he’s not even trying with the buttons, only pushing his fingers against the skin beneath. Tatsuya wishes the shirt would fucking disintegrate or something because they’ve already spent too much time on it and he’s got so many other shirts that are just as adequate as this and then Alex’s hands fall away, and then they’re cupping his ass. She lifts him up, presses against him; Taiga presses from the other side and they’re propping him up between them, against them. Tatsuya’s looking into Alex’s hair, falling loose from Taiga’s careful bun, and then a movement behind her catches his eye. It’s the three of them in the mirror, Taiga’s other hand reaching around up the side of Alex’s thigh and, oh.

Alex’s head is leaning on his shoulder; her lips are still less than an inch from his neck. And Taiga’s head is on his other shoulder and he starts to nose Tatsuya’s jaw and Tatsuya’s mind is pulled away from the sight of them to just them, moving against him and against each other, but as he does he thinks for a second that they’re a shell around him. But then he’s twisting and trying to get down so he can touch both of them at once or at least get this shirt off and let them touch skin, and Taiga’s mouth is at his mouth, and there’s too much of the moment to analyze anything.

**Author's Note:**

> there's no plot or even anything at all in here idk 
> 
> except tatsuya being happy ofc he deserves that all year long but. hbd anyway kid.


End file.
